I've been reading this board off and on for some time but never felt like I had anything to say until I saw this thread. so, um, hi. now that introductions are finished, here's my sob story. er, sobbing stories.
I distinctly remember being about 7 or 8 years old and very upset at something and crying the sort of gasping-for-breath sort of sobs, not the "look at how upset I am! do what I want!" thing that kids will do, but because I was deeply upset. (I don't remember why.) my mother yelled at me to stop crying or she will throw me down the stairs. I vaguely recall being downstairs and that she dragged me up the carpeted steps and picked me up and made the motion to throw me down to the landing, 7 steps down. this just made me cry even more out of terror, and I was trying to tell her that I was trying to stop but couldn't even breathe, but she just kept yelling at me to stop crying or she'll throw me down the stairs. I must've scrambled to the very bottom of the steps when she put me down. I just remember being on my hands and knees at the foot of the stairs, focusing on breathing and not crying or explaining pointlessly that I couldn't just stop crying.
I definitely think this affected me long-term. not just this, but other things, too. I don't have specific memories of this, but I get the sense that with me there was general thing of "crying is something to be made fun of". so I wouldn't do it if other people could see, and I would make fun of crybabies.
another tears-related incident that is clear in my mind: one time my little brother and I were trading some of our toys with each other. I shrewdly angled to get the toy that I wanted without giving him what he wanted. he agreed at the time but then changed his mind and cried when I wouldn't trade back. our mother would baby him if he cried, like it was so cute and pitiful that his little feelings were hurt. I think he learned at preschool or from a babysitter to say that his feelings are hurt. I had never been taught to say it; I found the phrase stupid and abhorrent. anyway, he would wail "sheeee hurrrrrt myyyyyy feeeeelingssss!"
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and clearly this was the Worst Thing In The World. I regarded this as him manipulating things to get his way, and I wasn't about to let it happen. our mother would try the "how would *you* feel if *he* hurt *your* feelings?" thing with me, which, duh, if he hurt my feelings, they would feel hurt. whatever. but I said "he can't! besides, I don't have any feelings!" because I knew that the whole thing was a Thing to get me to do what I didn't want to do. he traded fair and square! okay, it wasn't so fair, but he had agreed! I tried to explain this, but to no avail. his feelings were hurt. I had hurt them. it ended with our mother promising to buy him a new toy. I didn't want this to happen, either! I offered to give him back his old toy if I could also get a new toy.
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our mother agreed, just to "keep the peace".
I don't know why it wasn't okay for me to cry but it was okay for my little brother to do so. there was this same sort of double-standard with other things, too, which made me bitter, resentful, and hateful.
one last memory: if I was upset or feeling sorry for myself, my mother would tell me in a mocking, sing-song voice "go and have a pity party". sometimes I would say "fine! I will! and you're not invited!" but of course she didn't want to be invited to my pity party anyway. then I would pretend to have a *fun* party that she was not invited to. I vaguely recall enrolling my brother into my pity party one time, and we sat there fake-crying, then laughing. I learned to cover up my tears or distract myself with something. I also concluded that my mother doesn't care about how I feel.
(from what I can figure, my mother is an ESF type, probably P, but parenting makes her seem more SJ to me.)